


Dissection of a Sunflower

by orphan_account



Series: Trench [5]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Mutants, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Banditos - Freeform, Blood and Gore, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Demaverse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Doubt, Torture, Violence, dema, trench
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 20:06:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16102856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Josh unravels his hands just long enough to tuck the sunflower behind Tyler’s ear.“You’ll be safe here,” he is quiet, calm, collected, “I won’t let you get hurt ever again.”





	Dissection of a Sunflower

**Author's Note:**

> So although I am not gifting it to them, I am dedicating this to my [Edy](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/edy/works) for being my number one fan through the duration of writing this. I honestly did not expect it to be so damn long, but I'm really proud of how it turned out and I really hope y'all will enjoy it.
> 
> Also, Edy did come up with the title, so thanks, love. <3
> 
> AND HUGE SHOUTOUT to Jonah ( [Headfirstfrhalos](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/headfirstfrhalos/works) ) for being a huge inspiration for this fic. <3

“I think we’re looking at this wrong,” he says in a hushed whisper, his eyes flickering up to the looming walls of their prison. “It’s not hard to escape. What if Dema isn’t a place, but a headspace? What if we can’t actually escape?”

Josh frowns. “But we did.”

“Sure, physically. But our minds-- how do we escape our own minds?”

“I...” He doesn’t know what to say. Tyler doesn’t blame him. That’s how he felt he when he discovered what was outside the mossy stone walls. They’re sitting on a beach, staring at the lapping waves of the sea. It feels real as it rolls over his toes and pulls at his legs.

“I don’t think I’m fully here. And I know that doesn’t make any sense, but I think the bishops know how much we want freedom and taunt us with the idea of escape.”

“You think we’re still inside?”

A nod. “I do. I think they have our minds under lockdown, not our vessels. Does that make me crazy?”

Josh looks into the murky grey sky and the rolling waves that match. Tyler wishes the waves were blue. Blue was so much better than grey.

“I think we have to understand the concept of crazy to decide that,” he answers. Tyler folds his hands in his lap.

“That’s fair. There’s a lot we don’t understand out here.”

“Yeah,” Josh agrees, picking up a smooth pebble and chucking it into the water. It makes a soft _sploosh_ noise when it lands. “I guess I just don’t understand how things got so bad. Got to this point.”

“They were all sleeping, but now it’s time to wake up.” Tyler pushes himself off the ground and dusts the sand from his leggings. “I better get back before someone notices.”

Josh stands up too and stretches, his shirt riding up to reveal a small sliver of pale skin. “You could always come back with me, y’know. There’s plenty of room.”

“Yeah,” Tyler chews at a hangnail on his middle finger, “I know. But I’m not ready yet. I need to understand more before I run and hide.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I hate to tell you, but I think that’s already happened, love.” Tyler flashes a sad smile as he pulls his hand away from his mouth. Josh knits his eyebrows and bites down on his lip.

“They are still hurting you in there?”

“You know they are. They hurt all of us. There’s more to pain than just physical.”

“It’s because of the--”

“Yes,” Tyler says. He takes a few steps backward. “I’ll come back down at dawn. Be safe walking back. Look out for Nico.”

Josh smiles back. It’s just as sad as Tyler’s. “I always do.”

-

He sits, watching the sunset spill over the skyscrapers, his hand outstretched to catch the streams of light. In a world fueled by darkness, this was Tyler’s only chance to recharge. The bishops could block out the light, but they could never stop the sun. To be fair, citizens were supposed to stay inside, under curfew, before the sun rose and set, but Tyler never considered himself to be someone that followed the rules.

The light bends with each flick of his wrist. Tyler doesn’t know when he discovered he could manipulate light, but he did know that made him dangerous. Dangerous enough that the government sent him to a camp called Deconstruction Establishment for Malignant Adults-- aka, Dema. The others thought he and those like him were sick, thought they could be cured. How could you cure something that wasn’t your fault in the first place? Tyler didn’t understand. He didn’t think he would ever be able to understand why the world was so willing to ship him and his people off to be tortured to the brink of death only to be sent back. How could his own family do this to him?

Easy. They thought he was dangerous. They didn’t want him existing in the outside world until he knew how to properly hide himself.

People like Josh had managed to sneak outside the walls and make their own camp, determined to never go back to the real world. They were okay with starting over, because they had each other as family that shared the same problems.

But Tyler didn’t know if that’s what he wanted. Part of him still hoped his family would accept him back after he completed the course. The other part of him knew that nothing would change.

They could torture him, but his powers would never go away. How could they remove that part of him? Was that even possible?

Tyler wasn’t sure, but his building collection of scars told him no, it was not.

The light particles bounce around his open palm, causing a half-smile to rise to his lips. It always made him feel better when he could feel the sun on his skin. The sun took care of him, just like Josh did.

He leaves the bruises on his neck, on his jaw and under his left eye, but allows the warmth of the sun to heal the ones on his arms and stomach. Those, he could keep hidden behind linen clothes and heavy jackets. His reflection was pitiful to look at, but Tyler understood that his bruises meant one day closer to freedom. After a while, Josh stopped saying things about his bruises.

He, like Tyler, knew that they had to remain there for safety. To the bishops, pain meant power, and power meant that they were getting somewhere.

“Thanks,” Tyler whispers to the photons embedding themselves in his skin. He stays until the sun dips below the horizon, under the mossy cliffs and boisterous hills, submerging the world in darkness. His skin, still stuck with light particles, glows slightly underneath the towering buildings, and he waits patiently for the photons to evaporate before heading down the stairwell to his unit. He’s the only one living in the room now, because his roommate was out roaming the world of Trench like he owned the place.

Tyler wouldn’t lie: he missed Josh’s presence. The sorry excuse for an apartment they had always was bearable with Josh around cracking jokes to lighten the mood. He had been in Dema only four months longer than Tyler, but knew the place like the back of his hand. Tyler had a theory that everyone that lived here aged faster than they did in the outside world. He had more wrinkles under his eyes and across his forehead every time he looked in the mirror.

Josh was a go-getter. Tyler learned this on day one when he stole a loaf of bread from the cafeteria to take back to the apartment and ended up getting the shit beat out of him. The bishops tied him down and took a wooden bat to his kneecaps, his face, his gut. Tyler had been the one to nurse him back to health, despite the fact that they had just met. Josh explained they didn’t feed any of the people here enough, so he had to resort to stealing to reach his caloric intake. Tyler would have been okay with starving and leaving it at that.

So when Josh told Tyler he found a way out, he followed through. Josh, of course, always one for theatrics, led the Bishops on a manhunt for him throughout the city, all the way to a dead end as he wormed his way through the wall and disappeared into the grass. Tyler expected to never see Josh again, but Josh always came back. He needed supplies, he said, but also, he wanted to see Tyler.

Tyler isn’t sure if he would call what they have “romantic” yet, but sometimes, it feels that way. Josh mentioned he thought about kissing Tyler every once in a while. Tyler had agreed, but the conversation had come to a full stop and nothing ever came out of it.

Truth be told, Tyler thinks it’s because he’s scared. He isn’t as brave as Josh is to make advances or publically break the rules. He’ll do anything to avoid getting hurt, even if that means conforming.

He sits down on the edge of his bed and turns on a lamp. The room is bare and makes his heart hurt.

Tyler could escape to Trench, but all he wants is to be with his family again.

-

True to his word, they meet at dawn.

Tyler is standing with his back to the sun, letting the light give him energy for the day as Josh sneaks back in through the wall. He smiles his crinkly Josh-like smile and pulls Tyler in for a hug.

“You got back okay?”

“Yes,” Tyler nods his head and starts to chew on a hangnail. It hurts when he tears it off, leaving a pinprick of blood. “It’s lonely without you.”

“You always could come with me.” Josh shrugs his backpack off and unzips it as Tyler sighs. He looks at him with a disappointing gaze.

“You know why I can’t.”

“I know the excuse you always give me.” Josh cocks an eyebrow as he pulls his hand out of the bag, clasped around something Tyler recognizes immediately.

“Holy shit, Josh. Is that a _grenade?”_

“Shhhh!” Josh shushes him, glancing around the wall to make sure no one is around. No one is, but he’s just being safe. “Wanna shout it a little louder, dude?”

“Why do you have that?”

“It’s for you,” he says it like it’s obvious, shoving it into Tyler’s hand, “just in case.”

“I’m not taking a fucking grenade back to our apartment.”

“Please,” he probes, “for me.”

Tyler raises an eyebrow in suspicion. “Are you planning something?”

“What? Why would you--” he stops, backpedals, “no. I’m not. Just, please. I really don’t want to get into it. I just want you to be able to protect yourself.”

“By blowing a hole in the ground.”

“It’s _threatening,”_ Josh clarifies, still holding onto Tyler’s hand, “You don’t need to pull the pin. Waving it around and bluffing will get people to listen. It’s not like the bishops are walking around with guns, right? You’ll have the upper hand.”

With a sigh, Tyler complies and sticks the grenade into his pocket. He stares at the yellow bandana draped around Josh’s neck as the other boy lets his shoulders sink comfortably. Josh holds his hand palm up; two seconds later, a sunflower blossoms. Smiling, he tucks it behind Tyler’s ear and chuckles as Tyler pulls it out of his hair to twirl the stem between his fingers.

“You can be such an asshole sometimes, you know that?” Tyler murmurs.

“I want you to be able to protect yourself. You won’t come with me, so I have to do something. You know how mad it makes me that you allow yourself to get hurt day after day.”

“They’re trying to fix us.”

A pause. “Do you really believe that, Tyler?”

No. No, he did not. “I...” Tyler doesn’t want to lie to Josh, but he also doesn’t want to admit that the hope he’s still holding will be for nothing.

Josh clicks his tongue and gently rests his hand on Tyler’s shoulder. “You’re the one who said Dema was all in our heads.”

“I didn’t say _that,”_ Tyler hisses, staring holes into the sunflower Josh gave him. They aren’t safe standing around here, especially now that Tyler has a grenade in his pocket. “We can talk on the outside. I don’t want to be spotted.”

“I wouldn’t mind the exercise. It’s been a while since I’ve had the motivation to run. Avoiding bishops is a good motivator, don’t you think?” He winks as he slides out the slab of stone large enough for two humans to squeeze through. Tyler goes first, mud sticking to his hands and knees, and waits as Josh plugs the hole back up.

“You’re not funny,” Tyler tells him. He drops the flower on the ground and folds his arms. Josh frowns as he waves one of his hands towards the sky, causing pockets of yellow daisies to rise to the surface of the Earth. Tyler knew Josh only did this to piss the Bishops off. They knew the rebels roamed the outside walls of Dema, yet, for some reason, did nothing to bring them back in.

The sunflower crumbles into dust and is replaced by grass. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.” He tilts his head up towards the sun, his eyes closed, and lets the light renew him. “I want to go to the beach again.”

“To talk?”

“Yes.” Tyler cracks an eyelid open. Josh steps away.

“You know where it is,” he calls over his shoulder, disappearing over the hump of the hill.

-

Josh keeps sprouting flowers in the palm of his hand and watching them die. He does this six times before Tyler says something.

“You’re hurting them.”

He snorts, flicks his wrist, “You really care more about a bunch of weeds than your own life?” It’s a yellow Daffodil this time that turns to ash and blows away.

“They aren’t weeds. They’re flowers,” Tyler murmurs, staring at the grey waves crash against the shore.

“Yeah, and I’m the one controlling what happens to them.” It’s another Sunflower. Before Josh can kill it, Tyler reaches out and snatches it from his hand. Josh scoffs.

“I know what you’re trying to say, and I get it, okay? I know you’re pissed. But I’m not... I’m not like you, Josh.”

“Then please, enlighten me. Explain why you let them control you every fucking day of your fucking life.” There is fire in his eyes. The sand quivers underneath them.

Tyler chews on his lip for a few seconds. “I don’t want to be out here for the rest of my life. I want to go home. I want to see my family again. Wandering around the hills until I die isn’t how I want to live my life.”

“There is nothing for you back home,” Josh argues. “It’ll be exactly the same, except replace the Bishops with our pitiful excuse of a federation.”

“It’s not--” he sighs in frustration, “I just want to be normal again. And I keep thinking, if I listen, if I go through with the course, I’ll be able to go home and be accepted by those around me. I can fit in.”

“But _why?_ You aren’t normal. You can do things that normal people can’t do, and that’s fucking awesome. Why would you want to pretend?”

“Because I’m not fucking _you,_ Josh!” Tyler shouts, pushing off the sand. He can feel the grains in between his fingers. “I’m not, fucking, I’m not a spontaneous guy who riles up people for fun. I want to fit in. I want to be normal, not some fucking monster like everyone in the outside world sees me as.”

Josh’s voice is quiet. “You aren’t a monster.”

“I know I’m not, but the others don’t. I just want to be normal.” Blinking back tears, Tyler sits back down, this time a little farther away from the other boy. “I know what you’re going to tell me, about Trench, about the Banditos being my new family, but I don’t want that. I just wanna go home.” He hikes his knees to his chest and leans his chin forward. Josh doesn’t reply right away, allowing their silence to be filled with crashing waves and the wind whistling through the cliffs around them.

Finally, he speaks. “You wouldn’t break the rules if there wasn’t a rebellion brewing inside you. There’s a part that knows the truth.”

“I’ll never be able to escape, even if I leave.” Tyler refuses to look over at Josh. “That’s what I meant, not that Dema is inside my head. The things they’ve done to me, to _us,_ will haunt me forever.”

“But the pain will stop. And over time, it gets better.”

“You still bring yourself back inside those walls for supplies. You never escaped either. Don’t you get it? We can never _truly_ leave. They have us mentally trapped.”

Nothing. Josh stays silent.

“The only way to leave is to pretend we’ve learned our lesson. But even then, our minds stay behind.”

“I don’t want you to become one of their brainwashed citizens, Tyler.”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t want to become one of your savage Banditos.” Tyler shoots daggers; it’s the first time he’s allowed himself to look since the start of their conversation.

His words are like venom to an open wound. Josh lets out a pained breath through his clenched teeth and slowly stands up without saying a word. He doesn’t look back as he slips away like the wind whipping around them.

-

The apartment feels more lonely than usual. The lack of Josh’s presence weighs heavy on Tyler’s chest and makes him feel like he’s suffocating.

He sits down on the side of his bed and shoves the grenade into the drawer of the bedside table. Tyler’s hands shake. He feels horrible for what he said to Josh, but the constant pressure from him for Tyler to drop everything and leave was beginning to boil over.

The thing is, Tyler understood. He wanted to flee, but it was the hope of being accepted by society that kept him locked in. Besides, his cynical self knew he’d never _truly_ be able to leave Dema behind. He was here, and he was stuck.

The clock strikes noon. Tyler stands up, straightens his clothes, and heads to the cafeteria for lunch. Afterward came his classes and new additions to his collection of bruises and scars.

-

The Bishop pushes harsh, artificial light into Tyler’s eyes and it’s just enough to make them burn. Without thinking about it, Tyler makes the lightbulb explode to save his retinas and is met with a sigh of disappointment.

“I don’t understand why you inflict this kind of pain on yourself, boy,” Nico says to him, his voice masked by the white veil over his face. His crimson robes drag on the floor behind him as he swings the remains of the light out of the way to slap Tyler’s face. His face stings pink and he hisses in pain, his bound wrists pulling taut.

“It’s a reflex,” he tries to explain, “I’m trying to not--”

This time, it’s the Bishop’s fist that hits his face. The thud from Nico’s hand against his mouth taunts his eardrums. Bursts of white-hot pain flash behind his eyelids as blood rises to the surface of his bottom lip, sticky and warm. Tyler hangs his head in shame.

“There is no excuse. I am trying to save you, don’t you understand? You cannot leave until you are rid of the blasphemy inside. The other Bishops have had far more success with their students than I have. You are making this difficult, Joseph.”

“I’m sorry,” Tyler murmurs, his voice hoarse. It hurts when he swallows. “We can try again.”

“Very well.” Nico replaces the lightbulb and swings the light back into Tyler’s eyes. He tries his hardest to resist the urge to push the light away, but fails. The lightbulb pops again, this time sending sparks in all directions. One lands on Nico’s cloak, and he places a gnarled, grey finger on it to stop the spread of flames before looking up at Tyler shaking in fear.

“Three strikes and you’re out, Joseph.”

He walks across the dimly lit room to retrieve a large, wooden board that has to be at least an inch thick. Tyler squeezes his eyes shut, trying to stop his tear ducts from producing more tears, and licks the blood from his lips.

“I’m trying,” he pleads, “I swear, I’m not trying to defy you, sir--”

“I understand that, son.” He smiles underneath the hood. “But you will never learn if there is no form of punishment.”

“Just one more try, I promise I can do it.”

Nico shakes his head. Wooden board in hand, he reaches out to wipe the blood of Tyler’s chin with a finger tip. “You are obedient, Tyler, and I appreciate that. But rules are rules. After this, you are to return to your living quarters and stay there for the rest of the night. You are forbidden to eat supper tonight. Tomorrow, we will start fresh with something else. Perhaps this is something we need to work up to.”

Tyler nods his head. There is no use in arguing. He must listen.

Nico raises the board above his head and Tyler closes his eyes. He screams at the impact of it against his fingers-- howls as the bones crack and blood slowly drips to the floor below. He’s hit in the stomach, in the chest, over and over again until he feels numb. The wood splinters as Nico hits Tyler in the head, sending his chair to the floor. With a few abrasive gasps, he allows the Bishop to help him up and out of his chair. Tyler’s legs buckle, forcing him to pull himself back up. It’s pitiful, but Tyler tries to hold onto the last shred of pride he has.

“Go home, get yourself cleaned up,” Nico tells him as he wipes his hands on a towel. Seeing his blood being wiped off the hands of someone so vile makes Tyler’s stomach churn. “Nurse your wounds. We have a big day tomorrow.”

“Y-Yes s-sir,” Tyler stutters, wincing. He clutches his stomach and shuffles out the door.

He’s weak. Tyler knows this. He knows because it takes almost an entire hour for him to cross the street and take the stairs to his apartment. The others avoid eye contact and keep their heads down. Tyler doesn’t blame them because he knows they have bruises of their own. There’s nothing they can do but follow orders.

Upon arriving home, Tyler crashes onto the sofa, in too much pain to bring himself to the roof to allow the light to heal him or even climb into bed. His teeth chatter as he slowly unbuttons his shirt and observes the dark bruises painting his chest. There was no doubt about it: his ribs were fractured.

“Fuck,” he whispers, because there is no way he can allow himself to heal, at least not tonight. Nico knew what he was doing and was expecting there to be wounds.

Tyler wants to cry, but he doesn’t allow himself to break down. He needs to be strong. He’s used to this. It’s nothing knew. Pain was his family, not his enemy. It stayed with him every day from the moment to woke up to the moment he fell unconscious.

-

He falls in and out of sleep, his uncomfortable sprawl across the sofa sending pins and needles into his hands and feet. It is pitch black around him and his uneven breathing echoes throughout the empty room.

Tyler doesn’t know what time it is, but the sun isn’t out anymore, so it has to be evening at the latest. He tries to sit up and is met with warm hands.

“Don’t move,” Josh’s gruff voice rings in his ears. Tyler collapses back against the pillows and lets the other boy flick on the lights. Josh has gaff tape, yellow, of course, placed in an x over his chest and a beanie pulled down tight over his ears. His backpack is down on the ground, already halfway unzipped. He pulls out medical supplies and a bottle of painkillers. Tyler watches through half-lidded eyes as Josh fills up a glass of water from the sink and kneels down by his side with pills in hand.

“Thank you,” Tyler breathes out, his voice wavering, as he weakly raises his arm high enough to grab the pills. Josh tilts the glass to his lips so he can drink.

He didn’t notice the bruises on his fingers before, but it looks like Nico broke some of those, too.

Josh is silently observing him from the floor, his lips pursed tightly. He has a busted lip, Tyler notes.

“How’d you know?”

“I didn’t. You weren’t at the wall when we were supposed to meet again so I figured something was wrong. I found you passed out and went back to get supplies. Jesus, dude. He really did a number on you.”

At first, Josh hadn’t been assigned to Nico, but a more lenient Bishop named Keons. He was moved after countless incidents of “disobedience” and “defying behavior” because Nico was known for his intense punishments.

Tyler coughs and his entire body groans. “I wouldn’t have come anyway. I figured you wouldn’t have.”

“And why is that?” Josh has a pair of scissors in his hand and carefully snips away at the seams of Tyler’s shirt. He’s not going to bother hurting Tyler in order to get it off.

“Because of what I said.”

Josh shrugs. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.” He meets Josh’s eyes. Josh looks away. “What I said was horrible. I don’t think you guys are savages. And if I could be with you all the time, you know I would. It’s just...”

“Family,” Josh finishes for him. “I understand. I had so much resentment towards my family for sending me here that I didn’t even stop to think what their motivations were. Maybe they thought they were protecting me. I don’t know. Either way, I’m gonna allow myself to miss them because it’s normal.”

“Yeah,” Tyler says. He closes his eyes when Josh starts rubbing antibiotic cream across his bruises and the scratches caused from splintering wood. His thumb lingers over Tyler’s nipple, taking a little extra time to massage the numbing medicine into that particular part of his chest. “Jeez, at least take me out on a date first before you start fingering me.”

Josh blushes and pulls his hand away. “You know I like you.”

“And you know I like you,” Tyler replies. His body feels like it’s weighed down with sandbags. Josh has moved on to wrapping gauze around his midsection, being extremely careful when he moves his nimble fingers underneath Tyler’s back.

“He broke your ribs,” Josh changes the subject, “your fingers-- and you’ve got a cut on your lip.”

“It didn’t hurt too bad.”

“Bullshit. I assume the roof was way out of reach in the moment.”

“I can’t heal anyways. Nico wants me back tomorrow. He’s going to expect the damage.”

“Fucking masochist,” Josh growls. “If I could kill anyone in this place, it would be him. I’m taking you back to camp tomorrow, Ty. I’m not going to let that asshole terrorize you.”

“No!” Tyler tries to sit up and immediately regrets it. Josh helps him settle back down. “You can’t do that. I promise I can handle it, okay? I’m used to this. It’s just... never been this bad before.”

“Tyler, it’s only going to get worse.”

“I need more time,” he begs, his eyes wide. “I don’t want to argue with you again, J. Please.”

A pause. Josh nods. “Fine. Just know that I’m gonna be here to help, and if that bastard almost kills you, then I will fucking _destroy_ him, understand?”

“Okay,” promises Tyler. His eyes flicker to Josh’s bottom lip. “What did you do?”

He presses his index finger to the wound. “Oh. Uh, I cut my lip. It’s no big deal, really.”

Tyler knows Josh is lying, but he doesn’t press it. Josh is already here taking care of him and that’s enough for now. “Thank you for being here.”

“Yeah, of course.” Josh’s thumb brushes Tyler’s nipple again. He doesn’t have an excuse this time, but that same buzz runs down Tyler’s spine.

“Feels good,” Tyler says, challenging him. Josh sticks his tongue out and smiles.

“You would like your nipples touched.”

Tyler scoffs. “Yeah, well, you... I bet you’d like your weird sternum kissed.”

“It’s not _weird,_ just inverted. It’s like, a weird... body deformation... okay, fine. It is weird.”

“Told you,” he half-smiles. Josh lowers himself and lets his hands drift to a position where they won’t harm Tyler’s injuries. “I would kiss your weird sternum.”

“And I would like that,” Josh replies. His lips hover. They’re chapped and bloody, but Tyler doesn’t care. He tilts his head up, ignores his screaming bones, and lets his kiss with Josh fall into place. Josh is soft, protective-- he wants it, but doesn’t want to bring harm Tyler’s way.

It’s brief, but enough. Josh’s brown eyes are full of warmth. “I’ve wanted to do that forever,” he admits.

“Me too,” Tyler says. Josh begins to gather up his things. “Are you leaving?”

“Absolutely not. I’m just moving everything to the bedroom. You’ll sleep a lot better on a mattress instead of a lumpy couch.”

“Good idea. Lemme just--” He swings his legs over and tries to stand up on his own, which prompts Josh to immediately rush to his side.

“Woah there, big guy. Take it slow.” Josh helps Tyler through every painstakingly slow step until he reaches the side of his bed and even moves his legs to help him lay down. Tyler sees Josh’s eyes flicker over to his untouched bed. “I thought you would have moved that, or something.”

“Nope. It’s still yours. Gonna sleep in here with me?”

“Of course.”

-

When he wakes up in the morning, Josh is nowhere to be seen. His bed is unmade, but all his stuff is gone.

Tyler is sore, but he feels better than he did the day before. He figures he can heal his fingers and keep them hidden behind bandages.

“Josh?” his voice is still groggy with sleep as he pulls a shirt out of the closet and slowly pulls it over his arms. He hisses in pain, his jaw clenched, as he fumbles to button it. Tyler’s broken fingers are screaming a lot more than they were yesterday.

Josh isn’t in the foyer, so Tyler slides on a pair of slippers and pulls open the front door. Sunlight streams into the hallway, highlighting Josh’s face as he blows smoke out of his mouth.

“There you are,” Tyler breathes a sigh of relief and leans against the front door. “Figured maybe this was a one night stand.”

Josh snorts. “What we did hardly classifies as a one night stand, Ty.”

“I still thought you left, or something.”

He raises his leg enough to lean his foot against the stone wall. “Nope. Just needed to smoke. You told me to keep it outside, remember?”

That was true. Josh smoked even when he lived inside Dema. His cigarettes were contraband, hidden deep underneath the folds in his mattress. Tyler knew the Bishops smoked, but the idea of Josh stealing from the leaders’ personal stash seemed too risky, even for Josh. Someone else had to be doing it.

“Yeah, well. That was different.” Tyler digs the toe of his slipper into the cement. The sunlight is just out of reach; he knows he can move it, but Josh looks pretty with the photons attached to his skin.

“I don’t want the apartment to smell like nicotine. The Bishops will know when they do checkups.”

“Could have left a note.”

“I didn’t think you’d be up.” Josh turns to look at him and crushes his unfinished cigarette under his boot. “Your buttons are off.”

Tyler looks down. Sure enough, he had placed one button into the wrong hole and screwed up the rest of the pattern. “Oops.”

“It’s okay. I can fix it,” Josh offers, stepping forward to unbutton and reorganize. “Have the sunlight fix your fingers a little bit, okay? Just enough so it’s tolerable.”

“Sure,” he agrees, tilting his head. The stream of sunlight slowly moves to the right until it bathes Tyler’s hands in gold. He holds his shaking hands up and closes his eyes as his skin begins to glow.

“I don’t understand why you don’t think _that’s_ cool,” Josh murmurs. “Pretty handy to have sunlight heal you in my opinion.”

“I never said it wasn’t cool. It’s just not--”

“Normal,” he finishes, pulling his hands away from Tyler’s now perfectly buttoned up shirt. “Right.”

Tyler stares at Josh for a few seconds. “I thought your nose ring was in your right nostril.”

“Nope. It’s always been in my left.”

His brows furrow. “You’re shitting me.”

“Tyler, why would I pierce my other nostril and move my nose ring? Just to spite you?”

Tyler sighs. His gaze returns to his fingers as Josh smiles.

“It’s like nothing ever changed.”

“I guess,” he shrugs and immediately regrets it. Josh’s smile melts into a frown.

“You’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you.” His fingers are yellow now. They still ache, but it’s pain he has learned to live with. “I’m not mad at you for leaving.”

“Then why do you look at me like that?” Josh is exasperated. His bottom lip quivers.

“I don’t look at you like-- Josh, what are you even talking about?”

“I _like_ you, Tyler. A lot. And it’s like, you have resentment towards me for leaving you. I keep telling you to come join me out in Trench and it always leads to a fight, yet, I’m here, and you’re saying shit like that! I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I don’t want anything from you. You don’t owe me anything.”

“You say that, but I don’t believe you.” Josh shakes his head and moves his hands to adjust the straps of his backpack. Tyler wonders what inside is so important that he can’t leave it alone for two seconds. “We see each other every single day, but recently, things have felt different.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” Tyler tries to lighten the mood, but fails miserably. It only angers Josh further.

“We aren’t even together! You don’t dictate my life and I don’t dictate yours. Obviously. You argue with everything I ever say.”

“And you don’t think I _want_ to be with you? God, Josh, I think about that every single day.” He can feel himself starting to get choked up. It wasn’t fair that they were stuck in this loop of anger and hate. Under any other circumstances, Tyler would have happily run away with Josh, but they were stuck here with no true way out.

Josh throws his hands up. “Then why _don’t you?”_

Tyler doesn’t reply right away because he knows he’ll sound like a broken record. Josh nods his head firmly, his warm eyes the color of hot coals.

“You will never go back home, Tyler. When will you admit that to yourself?”

“Fuck you,” he whispers. Josh takes a step backwards as the stones sprayed with sunlight start to smoke. Tyler is angry, and when one of _them_ got angry, they became unpredictable. “Fuck. You.”

“Your family isn’t going to suddenly love you. They know you’re dangerous. You’ll be forced to hide the part of you that makes you _you--”_

“Fuck you!” Tyler shoves him, his hands glowing gold. The smoke starts to billow as Josh stumbles backward. “You don’t fucking know that!”

“I do! And you do too. Stop living in fantasies, Tyler.” Josh scoffs. “Don’t bother visiting tonight. I won’t be there.”

“Leave me alone,” Tyler shouts. Tears brim his eyelids, but he won’t let them fall. Not yet.

“Happily,” Josh retorts over his shoulder as he disappears down the stairwell. Tyler stands, watching, his body aching, his hands shaking in fists by his side. It’s not fair. None of this was fair.

With the door shut behind him, Tyler takes two steps to the couch and collapses into the cushions.

In the quiet of his lonely apartment, he allows himself to cry.

-

Lunch leaves him hungry and thinking about Josh stealing bread. Tyler understands why. To barely eat and go to Nico soon after was not something he particularly enjoyed.

“How are you feeling?” Nico asks as he buckles the restraints over Tyler’s wrists and ankles. He can feel the Bishop’s eyes on his bandaged fingers and the gauze sticking out from underneath his shirt.

“I’m great, sir,” Tyler lies. Nico nods his head fondly as he adjusts his robes and wanders to his table of instruments. A fire crackles in the background, causing a tiny trail of perspiration to accumulate across Tyler’s upper lip.

“That’s good to hear,” he speaks with his back to Tyler, talking to his tools. It makes Tyler feel inferior, which, he assumes he is to someone like Nico. “I’m impressed you were able to bandage yourself up so cleanly, especially since you’ve been living alone.”

“I’ve had to learn.”

“I truly hope you don’t go down the same path as your roommate. It’s a shame he was so eager to keep living in blasphemy.”

“I’m not planning on it, sir.” Tyler’s throat burns. “Josh and I disagreed on many things.”

“So it would seem. I am glad to see you trying to rid yourself of the evil inside.”

“I want to go home one day.”

“And you will, son.” Nico turns back around with an iron rod in his wrinkly hands. The end burns orange and the light around it warps. Tyler eyes it nervously, able to feel the heat against his skin even though he’s a good couple yards away. “Since our attempts failed yesterday, today we will try something different.”

“Fire is a plasma, sir. It doesn’t have anything to do with my p--”

Nico interrupts him. “Then you have nothing to worry about, do you?” His grin is wicked. Tyler closes his eyes and scrunches his face up in discomfort. He knows what is coming, and he knows he won’t be able to stop it.

“Please,” he still tries, his voice soft. Tyler is scared. He isn’t sure how he’ll recover from this one, especially without the proper medical supplies or Josh coming to his rescue again.

“If you don’t know what it feels like, then you will never learn, boy.” The pain comes as a vile jolt the second the side of the iron is pressed against his neck. Tyler’s skin melts underneath the orange and the screams that come out of his mouth are unrecognizable. Rivers of sweat and tears coat his face. This pain is worse than his broken ribs. Josh was right. It was getting worse.

“You don’t think I know what’s going on, Tyler?” Nico tears through Tyler’s shirt with those sharp nails of his, ripping away skin where his polyester shirt melted. The tip of the iron is pressed against his sternum. Smoke fills his nostrils.

Tyler screams again, his head thrown back so abruptly that his neck cracks. His howls are rabid and animalistic. “I know you go out every night to see that pitiful roommate of yours. I know the freedom you desire, the rules you break. I know you are in love with him.”

The word slips from his lips like a bar of soap in a bathtub. “No. No--”

Nico jams the iron into his stomach. Tyler’s entire body spasms against his restraints and black spots cloud his vision. “You’re just as much of a lost cause as him.”

“No! Please. I just...” Talking is like a punch to the gut. The pain is so much that his nervous system is starting to shut down due to shock. “I just wanna go home.”

“Oh, Tyler.” The iron rod clatters to the ground and one of Nico’s gnarled hands grabs Tyler’s chin. “You will never go home. No one leaves us. Your family gave you away.”

“That’s not, that’s not true,” he speaks through half-lidded eyes. When Nico lets go of his chin, his head hangs limply. “I can get better, for them--”

“No, you can’t. That’s why you’re here. You are rotten, Joseph. You are rotten and will never learn.”

Tyler can smell his sickly burnt skin. It becomes too much for him, and he vomits into his lap. Nico laughs bitterly.

“You are a fool.”

“I’m trying so hard.” Tyler thinks back to this morning when he stood there yelling at Josh for things that weren’t his fault. Did Josh know there was no hope? Did he know no one ever went back?

He should have left with Josh when he had the chance. There was no way he could leave now. The Watchers would be onto him. The vultures would feed on his pain.

“Perhaps you can prove your loyalty. I will allow you to go to the infirmary and to eat dinner, but if I see that you’ve used the sun to help, I will tear your eyes out, understand?”

“Y-Yes, sir,” Tyler stumbles over his words. They feel like broken glass, sharp against the roof of his mouth, meaningless in the end. His body feels cold. He is plummeting towards Earth like a bird with broken wings.

By the time Nico has undone a restraint, Tyler is unconscious.

-

He awakes to grey walls and gentle hands.

The infirmary is currently being watched over by a bishop named Andre. He hides behind his crimson robes and whispers soothing words as Tyler tries to sit up.

“Rest, my son. You are not well.”

“I need to,” Tyler is light headed and golden halos block his vision. “I need to go home. Nico said--”

“Nico brought you here so I could attend to your wounds. You suffered third degree burns. We need to make sure they don’t get infected.” As Andre continues speaking, Tyler raises a hand to pat the gauze taped to his neck and notes the vomit-free loose tee he’s now sporting. It’s grey, of course. “I put some anti-inflammatory ointment on and bandaged them up, so that should help for now. You’ll need to be careful and wash them thoroughly.” He sighs. “I don’t know if I should even ask what you did to upset Nico this badly. I haven’t seen a student turn out like this in over a decade.”

Tyler shakes his head. “I told him. I told him fire wasn’t the same thing as light, that I couldn’t control it-- and he didn’t listen.”

“I’m sure whatever his reasoning was for your best interest. Nico is our best.” Andre pats his knee and stands up straight. His dark skin glitters in the fluorescent lights. “I will have someone fetch your dinner. You will stay here tonight.”

“Okay,” he complies, too weak to put up a fight. Already his skin is begging to make the pain go away. Tyler hopes this is one he can recover from.

Before Andre leaves the room, Tyler musters up the courage to ask one final question. “Sir, Nico told me we never get to leave. Is that true?”

With a sad sigh, Andre removes his veil. His eyes are green and full of sympathy, and he looks like he can’t be older than fifty, despite his silver hair. “I’m sorry, son.”

The door clicks shut behind him as he steps into the hall. The ceiling fan whirls, buzzing in the uncomfortable silence of the room, as Tyler’s eyes once more fill with tears. It was true.

He was never going to go back home.

-

Sleep does not come easy. The blanket over his body is raggedy and barely provides enough heat for Tyler’s shivering body. He tries to plead with the Bishop to let him go home, but Andre denies his requests with the excuse that Nico requires him to stay in the infirmary.

“I can not go against another Bishop’s orders,” he says.

Tyler knows he should try and relax, gain some strength back before tomorrow comes and he’ll have to do this all over again, but all he can think about is Josh. He said he wouldn’t come visit, but Tyler doesn’t believe him. Nico knows Josh has been visiting. What if Josh shows up and there is nothing Tyler can do but watch him get dragged away?

He’s already hurt Josh once. He won’t let Josh get hurt again.

Andre sits in the corner of the room, his face hidden by a veil of shadows and his long, red robes tucked neatly behind him. Tyler avoids looking at him, pulling himself into a tight ball and facing the wall. He ignores his screaming muscles and burnt skin.

Tyler is angry with himself. Of course he had to get in a fight with Josh right before Nico shared the truth with him. He’s angry that he lived in denial for so long because he was so desperate to please the ones he loved.

All along, he’s had someone who loved him for who he was right in front of his face and ignored him because he longed for the past. Now, it was time to focus on the future.

Without the sun to wake him, Tyler isn’t sure what time he finds himself fully awake. It was cruel, but smart, of Nico to lock him in a windowless room. He knew what he was doing. Tyler supposes that’s why Nico was the best.

Andre helps wash his wounds with warm water and soap that smells like coconut. Tyler keeps his hisses to a minimum, even though he knows Andre will not be bothered. He wishes he could have been assigned to a Bishop with empathy, not a masochist like Nico.

“Keep these bandaged up until you bathe next, understand? Bacteria likes to crawl inside open wounds, especially ones that stretch this deep underneath the skin.”

“Yes sir,” Tyler nods. He kicks his feet back and forth under the bed as the Bishop stands up and folds his arms.

“Nico has given you permission to eat breakfast. I suggest you take advantage of that opportunity and prepare for today’s lessons.”

“Yes sir,” he repeats, standing up on two wobbly legs. His muscles tense at the first step he takes towards the door.

“And Tyler?” Andre adds the second Tyler’s hand reaches for the doorknob. He turns to face the Bishop with the kind eyes.

“Yes?”

“I wish you the best. Hopefully we do not have to see you in here again.”

“Me too,” Tyler admits, his stomach sinking, before shutting the door behind him.

-

The apartment is untouched, which surprises Tyler. He changes clothes and stands in the sun long enough to gain energy for the day.

“Thank you,” he tells the sunlight as they stitch his skin back together. He knows Nico will punish him for letting the photons help, but he doesn’t care. If things go right, he’ll be out of here before his next lesson. All Tyler needs to do is find Josh.

He skips breakfast and heads east towards the towering prison walls. Usually, if Josh has visited, there were yellow flowers around, but not a single one is anywhere to be found. With a frown, Tyler moves the stone; slowly, of course, because his body does not appreciate all the pressure he’s putting on it, and slips through the crack. All the daisies Josh had nurtured the previous day are gone. It makes Tyler even more worried. Every time Josh came inside or left, he birthed more flowers. That meant something was wrong.

Tyler wasn’t even sure where the Bandito camp was. He had never been, too scared of leading the Bishops to Josh’s hiding place. Josh promised it wouldn’t happen, that he was careful, but Tyler was always worrying about something.

Was Josh still inside the walls? Had he been taken?

Tyler’s gut sinks. Josh must have come back the previous night to check up on him. Tyler knows that’s something Josh would do, because Josh was kind hearted and never contained enough anger to completely shut someone out of his life.

He can feel tears burning at the corners of his eyes as he slips back inside Dema and plugs the hole up. The vultures watch him closely, study him, as he deliberately breaks the rules. They wait patiently for him to slip up and die so they can feed on his bones.

Tyler can only hope that Josh is hiding somewhere, collecting supplies, as he stares up at the sun. A surge of energy builds in his muscles. It might just be adrenaline, but it’s almost as if the light is telling him to take a stand.

Tyler strolls past the dinning hall and over to Nico’s station. The sign on the door reads “in session,” but Tyler doesn’t care. He pushes into the room with all his courage in his throat and shouts “NICO!” into the dark room.

That’s when he sees who is currently in session.

“Josh?”

His dark haired beauty is chained up by his wrists, held high above his head. The shackles around his ankles hang loosely as his body limps towards the ground. Josh’s clothes are torn to shreds and practically every inch of his skin is soaked in sticky crimson that reminds Tyler of the Bishop’s robes.

His hands clench by his sides. Tyler is magma underneath a fragile ground, ready to erupt. “You son of a bitch.”

“Ah, Mr. Joseph! So nice of you to join us.” Nico finishes wiping Josh’s blood off his hands and sets the cloth to the side. It doesn’t even matter that it’s grey; the blood still stains it black.

“We found your friend hiding in your apartment last night whilst you were tending to your wounds. I figured we had many missed sessions to catch up on. How long has it been, Joshua?”

Josh doesn’t reply, and in return, Nico backhands him across the face. “How long has it been, Joshua?” He repeats.

“Eighteen months,” Josh voice barely reaches a whisper. It’s hoarse and filled with so much pain.

Tyler’s hands clench into fists. He’s never seen Josh like this before. Sure, broken bones and purpling bruises were normal-- they’d spend nearly two hours every night taking care of each other when Josh was still leaving inside. But this? This was intent to kill.

Josh’s pants are so low on his hips that his V-lines are in full display, marked up with razor sharp knife cuts. He has a large gash across his stomach that threatens to spill his intestines and his arms are layered with burn marks.

Tyler looks over at Nico’s hidden face. He can feel that bastard’s wicked grin from across the room. “You’re a piece of shit,” he spits. Nico laughs.

“You wanted the chance to redeem yourself, Tyler. Now’s that chance. The rebel leader is contained. He can only take so much before he gives up the location of the others.”

“I will never,” Josh growls, raising his head just enough to shoot daggers. Tyler moves to Josh’s side and cups his cheek as Nico returns to his table full of tools.

“Hey,” he forces a sympathetic smile, “I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?”

“You need to get out,” Josh whispers. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Gentlemen, as much as I enjoy this touching reunion, I am not finished. Mr. Joseph, return to the dining hall.”

“Stopping hurting him, please,” Tyler whips back around and pleads, “you’ve done enough. You’ll kill him.”

“Sometimes, my son, that’s the best way to learn your lesson.” Nico returns with an electric cattle prod in his hands and jams it into Josh’s side, causing him to scream. Electricity bounces across his pale skin and illuminates his fragile veins with a dark, royal blue.

Tyler’s reflexes have him jumping forward to push the Bishop out of the way before he can fully comprehend what has been done.

He holds his arms out protectively in front of Josh. “Please, sir. Please stop.”

Nico steadies himself and straightens out his robes. “Leave, Mr. Joseph. I will not give you another chance. Leave, and we can ignore the violation you just committed against me.”

“Tyler, go,” Josh urges. Tyler shakes his head.

“You were right, sir. I am in love with him. And I’m not going to leave him alone to die.”

The Bishop removes his veil to reveal a greying face full of wrinkles. There is nothing about him that says ‘kind.’ Tyler spent his whole life believing someone could not be born evil, but Nico was changing his mind. He steps forward.

“You have potential, Joseph. Potential to show the world that we can help scum like you. I can get you back home, if you cooperate.”

Tyler’s stomach drops. He knows the Bishop is lying, but it’s that same part of him that wants to hold onto false hope. “You told me no one leaves.”

“I can change that. You could become the face of Dema. I can make sure you get the treatment you so rightly deserve for cooperating all these years.”

Josh is silent. Tyler cranes his neck to check on him and finds him slumped in unconsciousness. This could be it. His ticket to freedom.

“Don’t waste your whole life on this one man, Tyler,” Nico continues, causing Tyler to snap back up. “There are so many other people in the world who are worthier of your love than him.”

“He’s just like me,” Tyler argues. His arms are beginning to tremble and his facade is crumbling. The truth is, he is scared. He’s been scared since the very second he stepped into this place. “Does that mean I’m not worthy of love, Nico?” Using the Bishop’s first name out loud was another violation, one that he had committed twice at this point. Tyler was bound to be tortured to the brink of death if he didn’t escape from this, and the longer he stayed, the more likely that outcome seemed.

“Dun is nothing like you,” he snarls. “He is a traitor and an idiot who was destined to fail from the very beginning. You are not him.”

“He longs for freedom just as I do.”

“And yet he cuts corners to get it.”

Tyler bites his lip. “We don’t deserve to be locked inside a prison because we aren’t like everyone else. Why do you get to make that decision?”

“Because I, _we,_ are in control.” Nico is becoming more and more irritated with every passing second. Tyler doesn’t have long to get what he wants. “Control means power. Power means we get to decide what happens to people. Without order, there is only chaos. Don’t you long to be normal?”

“I long to be loved.” It’s the first time he’s said it out loud, the first time he’s admitted it to himself. All this time, he talked about the desire to be normal, but it was love he truly wanted. His family could never provide him the love Josh did, not with the way they viewed him. “No one loves me like he does.”

“He’s never said those words to you,” Nico’s words are like salt to an open wound, but Tyler continues to stand tall.

“He doesn’t need to. I already know.” There is a pause as they stare at each other in anger. Tyler knows he’s caught the Bishop off guard, which is perfect for what he decides to do next.

Every light in the room shatters, giving Tyler the in to get Josh out of his chains. He can hear Nico screaming, stumbling over to the fire to retrieve more weapons, but Tyler lets adrenaline lead his way to freedom. Josh’s unconscious body slumps into his arms as he lifts him up and darts towards the exit.

“You won’t be able to hide forever!” Nico’s bellows shake the four unsteady walls of the shack. “And you _definitely_ won’t be able to get to that wall. The both of you will be _hung!”_

Tyler ignores Nico’s meaningless threats as he pushes the door open. The sunlight is blinding, but welcoming, as a gunshot rings behind him. He feels a sharp pain in his shoulder, but continues forward. The only thing that matters is Josh.

Even when the pain finally settles in, and Tyler realizes that he _definitely_ has a bullet lodged in his shoulder, he ignores it. The Bishops aren’t supposed to have guns; then again, they probably aren’t allowed to beat students to the brink of death, either.

Josh begins to come to as Tyler draws up a bath. Tyler knows he’s risking their lives by coming back home, but he hopes Nico won’t come for him immediately. Tyler’s taking a chance here; he always had been one of Nico’s favorites, and for one of Nico’s favorites to escape would prove disastrous for the entire organization.

When he hears moans from the bedroom, Tyler shuts the facet off, wipes his hands on a towel, and joins Josh’s side. He begins to unbutton Josh’s pants, glad they are low enough that he won’t be hurt from having them slide down his legs.

“I’m going to clean you up,” Tyler tells him as he crouches down to pull the camo chinos over his feet. He leaves Josh’s boxers on, just to provide him privacy.

“We have to go,” Josh lolls his head onto his shoulder as Tyler removes his own clothes. His shoulder burns, and is soaked with blood, but he assumes it isn’t too bad considering he’s still able to function.

“We will,” Tyler promises. He wraps his good arm around Josh’s back, being wary of his injuries, and walks him to the bathtub. Tyler climbs in first, and when he deems the water a proper temperature, pulls Josh over the lip of the tub. Water splashes over the edges as Josh whimpers in pain. Tyler helps him settle in and fold his limbs in a way that won’t cause him discomfort. He knows Josh is trying his hardest to be strong, and thinks that is what hurts the most.

“I got you,” he whispers as Josh tucks his against against Tyler’s chest. The younger boy reaches for an old washcloth full of holes, soaks it in warm water, and gently begins to wipe the blood off Josh’s skin. He starts with the face; Josh has blood staining his eyebrows and coating his eyelids. Dark blues and purples swirl around his right eye like Van Gogh’s _Starry Night_ and Tyler feels another surge of anger fill his veins. What would have happened if he hadn’t gone in there when he did? Would Nico really have murdered Josh?

“Ty,” Josh’s voice is sickly sweet as Tyler presses the corner of the cloth against the bridge of his crooked nose, “your shoulder.”

“I’m okay. You’re more important right now. We need to get that cut on your chest bandaged up so it doesn’t get infected.” He moves down Josh’s cheekbones, across his chin, against his neck and collarbones. The burns on his arms glow red where skin came off with the hot iron. “Why did you come back, Josh?”

“Had to make sure you were safe,” he whispers. “Needed to know.”

“They know we’re here.” Tyler dips the washcloth back under the water and wrings it over Josh’s chest. He hisses when the water slides into his wound. “Sorry. It’s going to sting.”

“You saved me.”

Water washes over his thighs and knees. “I love you.”

Josh is quiet. For a second, Tyler thinks maybe he passed out again, but when he steals a glance, Josh is staring at the grout covered tiles lining the walls.

“I should have come with you. I’m the reason we got into this mess.”

“No,” Josh tells him. “It’s not your fault.” He grimaces again when Tyler presses the washcloth against his shoulder. He has about a million freckles dotted about that Tyler has never noticed until now. They are adorable. “There’s medical supplies at the camp.”

“Are you going to be able to make it that far?”

“Don’t really have a choice, do I?” His hand flies out to stop the washcloth from moving and Josh slowly turns his body in what little room he has to look Tyler in the eyes. “I love you, too.”

Tyler chuckles. “I know.”

It causes Josh to smile, and even though it’s half-assed and full of pain, he still leans forward to kiss Tyler. Tyler happily returns it, his palm laying flat against the twitching muscles in Josh’s neck. It’s funny how much it reminds him of their first kiss together. Hopefully they can kiss in the future without either one of them being injured.

“Your lips give me euphoria,” Josh tells him after they pull away. His eyelids flutter and Tyler knows they are going to have very little time to get out of enemy territory.

“Energy too, I hope. You’re going to have to tough it out, love.”

Josh nods. “Nico still has my bag with all my weapons in it. I don’t know what we’ll use to--”

“That’s it,” Tyler cuts in as soon as the idea comes to mind. “I have that grenade you gave me.”

“Shit. You’re right.”

“And we, we can use our gifts. I’ll turn the light over, try to blind them.”

“I could bring a building down,” Josh suggests, “or cause an earthquake.”

“Either way, we can do this. We can use their power, their _control,_ against them.”

Josh nods. It’s the first time Tyler has seen anything remotely related to fear cross his face. Josh prided himself in being bold and fearless for every decision he made. He held his head high when he left lessons with scratches and cuts and helped others instead of hiding his face like the rest of the citizens here. For Josh to be scared meant Tyler had to be brave for the both of them.

“Hey,” Tyler says, pulling his attention back in. Josh looks up through his swollen eyes and hums happily when Tyler presses another kiss to his chapped lips. He wishes they could stay in the bathtub and kiss forever, but time is ticking. Either they escape, or they die.

“I could kiss you forever,” Josh mumbles. Tyler rubs his thumb across Josh’s cheekbone softly, like he’s stroking the fur of a puppy. Every touch between them creates incentive to push forward.

“Later, when we’re at camp.” The words alone send chills down his spine. Tyler never thought he’d be on his way to the rebel base, and the idea of seeing Josh barking orders at everyone turned him on. “First, we have to get out of here alive.”

“You think we can do that?” He splashes his palm against the water.

“Absolutely.”

-

It’s funny, Tyler thinks, that this morning started off with him in so much pain. It’s funny, because now that he has his arm around Josh’s shoulders and a grenade in his pocket, his pain means nothing. Sure, it’s there, but it’s the last thing on his mind.

All of his things fit inside one, small knapsack that he carries on his back. There isn’t much-- a few shirts, a couple pairs of pants, a hoodie and a jacket-- but Josh promises that everything he might need is waiting for him back at camp.

The vulture is perched atop the eastern wall, watching them as they exit the stairwell. The sun is at its highest point; it’s only noon and they’ve already gotten themselves into a world of trouble.

“Tyler,” Josh coughs out, pausing to lean against the wall. Tyler ducks into the alleyway between apartment buildings, but keeps an eye on the bird around the corner. It ruffles its wings and tilts its head. 

“I know it hurts, but we have to keep moving, J,” Tyler speaks softly, his thumb fumbling with the top of the grenade in his pocket. He wants to make a show, wants to get the attention of the others so Nico knows _exactly_ who is responsible for damages.

“No, I can do that. Just, your shoulder, man. You gotta get that bullet out or it’s going to heal right over.”

Tyler touches his shoulder at Josh’s mention and peers upward at the sun. Usually he could dictate what the light healed on his body, but if it ended up being a wound with disastrous results, his body, and the light, took matters into their own hands. Already his bandaged burns were beginning to feel significantly better than they had earlier that morning.

“Right,” he mutters, dropping his hand to his side. “It’ll be okay. A bullet inside of me won’t matter in the end.”

“The skin cells will warp around it, right? It won’t affect anything important?”

“No,” Tyler cranes his neck to flash a comforting smile, “I’ll be okay.”

Josh limps up next to him. “Let’s go over the plan one more time.”

He takes a deep breath. This is it. If anything goes wrong now, one of them could end up dead. They must execute this to a very tee to make sure they can actually leave the city.

“Bring down the depository. That’s where they keep the files, so students aren’t allowed in there. That will provide enough distraction for me to get some sort of spark going.” He thinks of the vials that line the inside walls of the buildings. The reflection should be enough to provide a spark if the light hits it just right. “I’m going towards Nico’s Tower, you head towards the wall. I know you have people here.”

“Yeah. I’ll give the signal and they should be able to cause enough chaos for the both of us to slip out undetected. Just, dude,” Josh’s hand latches onto Tyler’s shoulder, “please be careful. Make sure you’re far enough away before you pull the pin or else you could get severely injured.”

“I’ll be fine. I promise.” Tyler swivels around to face him and cups Josh’s cheek with a calloused palm. He half-smiles, hoping Josh still feels okay about this whole thing. “We’re finally doing it, J. We can do this.”

“Yeah,” Josh chuckles nervously, softly, “I never thought this is how I’d get you to come live with me in Trench.”

“I don’t think you planned on being tortured to death by Nico, either.”

He clicks his tongue. “No.”

Tyler seals the gap between them. Despite the roughness of Josh’s lips against his own, and the stress pimples that have formed across his chin from all the blood and oil over the past week, Tyler still loves every second of it. Sure, Josh could literally move mountains and cause earthquakes, but he also provided comfort and security. There weren’t many people in the world who could do that for Tyler Joseph.

“You’ll see me again,” Tyler whispers, his lips pressed against Josh’s philtrum. When they separate, Josh nods his head vigorously and steps forward.

“Okay,” he cracks his knuckles, “let’s bring down a motherfucking building.”

As the ground beneath their feet begins to rumble, Tyler sprints across the street with his legs bent just enough to keep himself on the balls of his feet. He backs against the wall of a building in an alleyway adjacent from Josh and tilts his head up just enough for the sun to bathe him in golden light. He feels an immediate invigoration as a thin, long crack weaves its way through the asphalt. A glance at Josh shows him deep in concentration, his hands held out in front of him, manipulating the earth’s surface. With a simple flick of his wrist, the entire depository crumbles. The sound is deafening and takes Tyler a couple seconds to recuperate before he too raises his hands to move the rays of the sun towards the pile of rubble that used to be a building.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see broken pieces of glass-- the vials-- and twitches his left palm. The reflection doesn’t catch right away, and he shoots a nervous look at Josh. Already, students are whispering and leaving the safety of their apartments to see what the commotion is. Tyler swears he can see red robes joining the masses and his heart skips a beat.

 _Finally,_ it catches, sending splintering wood into a blaze. With one more look at Josh, who gives him a thumbs up, Tyler backs up into the shadows and heads for Nico’s Tower.

Every Bishop had a tower of their own; nine sat in the middle of town, spiraling into the clouds. It was where you went to check in with your superior every month to make sure everything was going smoothly in the “reconstruction” process before you went off into the outside. Of course, now Tyler knew that everyone always failed evaluation because no one went home. Every month, he’d mope up the stairs as slowly as possible, dreading the idea of having to spend another month locked inside Dema’s walls. This time, he felt excited climbing the spiral staircase, because Nico was finally going to get what was coming to him.

Outside, the wind slams against the tower. Tyler can hear the faint screeching of the vulture alerting the bishops about the situation. If he thinks hard enough about it, he swears he can smell the smoke.

Nico’s door is locked, which isn’t surprising. Tyler takes a step back to aim his foot and kicks with all of his might, sending a wave of pain throughout his broken and battered body. He feels the new skin on his shoulder rip and the familiar sensation of blood that follows.

But he needs to forget about it and focus on the mission. He’ll have time to cry later.

Nico stands at the window overlooking Dema, his hands tucked behind his back. He doesn’t look up when Tyler breaks down the door.

“I knew you’d come back to me,” he says, his voice calm. Tyler is surprised, especially because of how he was acting back in the classroom. “You always come back to me.”

“It was never willingly,” Tyler sneers, taking a step forward. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t scared. He was very scared. Never had he confronted his superior like this, nor had he ever blown up a building with a fucking _grenade._ “I came back because I thought I could go home.”

Nico turns around and pulls the veil back from his face. His teeth are yellow from years worth of nicotine and his skin sags. “You and I both know that was never the case.”

Tyler’s stoic glare falters. “You give us all a false sense of hope.”

“You knew you were never going to go back home, Tyler. You came back because you were conditioned to. You know you need help.” He takes a few steps forward, testing his freedom around the frightened boy and allows his long, grey fingers to stroke the wood of his desk. “Think of how many meetings we had in here where you were so close to being approved. Think about the wave of relief that crossed your face when I failed you. You wanted to stay here, wanted to stay close to me.”

“No,” Tyler shakes his head, “no. I _never_ wanted to stay here.”

“Then why didn’t you run off with that roommate of yours, if you love him so much?”

Tears prick his eyes. He knows Nico is trying to get under his skin, poke at his anxieties, make him lower his guard. The shitty thing is that he knows it’s working. “I thought I could leave.”

“No, you didn’t.” Nico takes a few more steps forward, and then a few more, until he’s standing right in front of Tyler. He stretches a hand out until it falls in place around Tyler’s neck. Tyler closes his eyes, scrunches up his face, and tilts his chin toward the ceiling. He can feel the bruises pulsating under his skin where Nico’s fingers lay. “You are smart, Tyler. That’s why you’ve always been my favorite. You’re intelligent. You know your place.”

Nico’s hand slides up to cup his jaw. “You know you are dangerous. Look at the chaos you caused outside. Was your intent to hurt your fellow neighbors? Was my attention so important to you? Oh. I understand.” His free hand rests uncomfortably on Tyler’s waist. Tyler is upset he can’t get himself to move. He’s upset that he’s freezing. “You’re upset that I gave my attention to Josh instead of you, is that it?”

Nico is touching the waistband of his trousers, his index finger toying with the zipper. Tyler doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want this at all.

So why can’t he _move?_

“You don’t control me,” Tyler says quietly. His voice cracks as Nico pulls the zipper down.

“I do control you. That’s why you are here. You’re going to stay with me.”

“I won’t desert Josh.”

“Okay, then. Leave.” He raises an eyebrow as the zipper reaches its final tooth. “No one is stopping you. Just know that you’ll die out there without proper supplies. Josh, too. I sure hope you knew how to properly clean those wounds. Third degree burns can be nasty, y’know. Especially considering there’s still some of his skin stuck to the iron.”

“You’re sick.”

“You love it,” Nico whispers, leaning forward to press his lips to the shell of Tyler’s ear. His hand palms Tyler’s front.

And like the volcano he knows he is, Tyler explodes.

He shoves Nico off of him, watching the old man’s back hit the edge of his desk. He pulls the grenade out of his pocket, and clutching it tightly, pulls the pin.

Nico’s eyes widen as Tyler throws it over his head. As it rolls across the carpet and bumps against a bookcase, Tyler retreats towards the stairs and screams as arms wrap around his midsection.

“You aren’t going _ANYWHERE!”_ Nico roars, moving an arm to put Tyler in a chokehold. Tyler knows he doesn’t have time to put up a fight, so instead, he pulls Nico in front of him and closes his eyes.

The last thing on his mind is Josh.

Tyler hopes he won’t be mad.

-

Outside, Nico’s Tower explodes in a fiery blast. Chunks of stone and other shrapnel rain down from above, striking another chorus of horrified screams.

Josh is waiting by the wall, the stone already moved to the side, his sore arms wrapped around his body. He hasn’t heard from Tyler, nor seen him since he brought the depository down.

Above him, the vulture screeches. Josh looks up, his bottom lip in between his teeth, and realizes something is terribly wrong.

He doesn’t hesitate to run straight into the smoke.

-

Tyler’s vision stirs. He hears screams, feels the soot on his skin, smells the blood.

“Stay with me,” Josh tells him. His arms are looped around Tyler’s shoulders, but he’s struggling to drag Tyler’s body across the grass and away from the walls. The city is on fire, Tyler realizes.

The sunlight numbs him. He is in a haze, lost in his own mind. He wants to speak, but no words come to his lips. He wants to help Josh carry him, but he can’t move his arms.

That’s where all the blood is coming from. It stains the dying grass with red.

“Fuck!” Josh growls up at the sky. “Tyler, stay _with me!”_

 _I’m so sorry,_ Tyler thinks. He doesn’t want Josh to be upset with him.

But he can no longer stay awake.

-

He slips in and out of consciousness over the next thirty-six hours. Josh sits next to him, his eyes bloodshot, his mouth always moving. Tyler doesn’t know what he’s saying, but he knows Josh is in just as rough of shape as he is. His face is covered in bruises and his arms are covered in pus-filled boils.

The metallic smell of blood coats the inside of Tyler’s nostrils. A couple of times, he vomits all over himself. Josh is there to clean him up. He gives Tyler water, too, and even plays with his hair. Tyler dreams of flames and golden baths of sunlight.

It is pitch black outside when he wakes up and his eyes stay open. He gasps loudly, jolting Josh out of sleep next to him. They’re in a tent, Tyler concludes, and the wind shakes the sides.

“Tyler,” Josh breathes his name like it’s a word he never thought he’ be able to say again. “Oh my God.”

He’s on his knees in an instant, pressing a canteen to Tyler’s lips. Tyler gulps wildly, drinking like he’s been stranded in a desert for several weeks. Josh has tears sliding down his face as he moves his pillow over to help Tyler prop his back up. He tucks the blanket tight around Tyler’s sides and kisses his cheeks.

“You’re okay,” he says like he’s trying to convince himself. “God. You’re okay.”

“Are we--” Tyler looks down at his bandaged arms. Something doesn’t feel right. “Is this Bandito camp?”

“Yes.”

“And Dema is--”

“Destroyed. For now.” Josh rubs the back of his neck before reaching behind him to turn on a light. Shadows bounce across the inside of the tent and Josh looks a lot sicker than he did in the darkness. “Do you remember what happened?”

“How many days ago was that?”

“Three.” He smiles sadly. “The others didn’t think you were going to wake up.”

“You kept me in the sunlight, right?”

“Of course. I just moved you inside because it gets cold at night. You,” he swallows nervously, “you didn’t get out of the tower.”

He remembers. Nico’s touches were so vivid he can feel the ghost of fingers across his cheek. “He was going to touch me, Josh. And I think... I think I was going to let him.”

Josh moves closer and reaches to rest a hand on Tyler’s knee.

The pain comes back to him. His entire body groans in agony and it makes sense why he was unconscious that whole time. Tyler continues to stare at his arms, trying so desperately to figure out what is off. One seems shorter than the other. Had they always been like that?

He recalls learning about ghost pain. Sometimes, when injuries were extremely disastrous, patients would feel bursts of pain long after the wounds were healed. He’s not sure why, but it certainly feels like he’s experiencing pain where he should not be.

“He unzipped my pants and told me I was his, that he controlled me. And I knew he did, Josh. He always has. I think that was the real reason I could never tear myself away from Dema. It was like he had some sort of spell over me.” His Adam’s Apple bobs nervously and Nico’s fingerprints feel like they are etched into his skin.

“He tried to suffocate you,” Josh half asks, half states. “There are bruises on your neck.”

Tyler raises a hand to touch his neck, only to finally realize what is wrong with his arms.

He’s missing a hand.

The panic settles in. Josh stops him from convulsing and leans his forehead so it gently touches Tyler’s. “Shh,” he whispers soothingly, “it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“I fucking blew myself apart,” tears run down his cheeks like a waterfall and he can’t bring himself to stop them. His sobs sound like the honks of a goose. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

“You are not an idiot,” Josh says firmly, his palm cupping Tyler’s jaw. His hands feel soft and safe, despite the calluses on his fingertips. “You sacrificed yourself so I could escape. God, when I found you-- I thought you were dead.”

“He tried to strangle me,” Tyler hiccups, “and I used him as a fucking human shield.”

“Tyler, it’s okay.” Josh turns Tyler’s head with his cupped palm and forces the sobbing boy to look at him directly. “You did what you had to do, and we’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

Tyler tries to calm himself down by swallowing another round of sobs and sniffs instead. “I remember you dragging me. There was so much blood.”

“You were glowing gold like some radioactive creature. The sun really did not want you to die. In fact, it’s already healed you so much, Ty. You lost an arm too, and it’s back. You can fucking,” he pauses to scoff, “fucking _regrow body parts.”_

He raises his right arm. It feels completely fine, despite the blood soaked bandages. “This one?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Ghost pain,” is his response. Tyler shifts his body and offers his arm to Josh, who checks for consent with a flicker of his eyes. Tyler nods.

Carefully, Josh unravels the bandages, revealing pale skin that looks like it doesn’t even belong to him. Tyler assumes it’s because the cells are still weaving, and melanin will set in later, but he feels like Frankenstein. Especially because at the crook of his elbow, where he assumes his arm got blown off, are a string of weird scars that spell “carpe noctem” in the negative space.

“I guess the light’s got a weird sense of humor,” Josh offers as an explanation, chuckling lightheartedly, “considering that means ‘seize the night.’”

“It would seem so,” he mumbles, sniffing afterwards to soak up some more tears. “What about my shoulder? Is that okay?”

“I cleaned it up. I think your body was holding a lot of charge when you were out in the light-- you know, like one of those crank up flashlights? And then heals at night. It seems to have a mind of its own, though. The healing process. It’s been focusing on regrowing your limbs rather than all the other damage Nico inflicted on you. Everything seems okay for now.”

For the first time ever, Tyler was glad he wasn’t like the rest of the world. He certainly would have died if it hadn’t been for the sunlight working hard to save him.

He stares at the nub his left hand now is and sighs. It’ll grow back, but the memory of waking up and discovering he had lost a hand would traumatize him for months to come. He could only imagine what it would have been like if he woke up and discovered he lost his entire arm, too.

“What about you?” Tyler decides to ask as his eyes blink back towards Josh’s infected arms. The edges of the burns curl upwards from the skin and are hardened in a sickly off-white. “Josh, that looks really bad.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He looks down, giving Tyler the opportunity to rest his Frankenstein hand against Josh’s forehead. He definitely has a fever.

“Josh,” Tyler repeats, more firmly this time. “You should really get that cleaned up.”

“We don’t have anything left,” he explains, shame in his knitted brows. “The others went back to Dema to get more medical supplies, but it’s still chaos over there. I’m okay, I swear. It doesn’t hurt that bad.”

“It’s going to hurt when you have to get your arms amputated,” Tyler argues. “What about that cut on your chest?”

Josh is reluctant to pull his shirt up, and Tyler knows it’s just as bad, if not worse. After a couple tense moments, Josh begrudgingly lifts up the hem of his shirt.

The wound itself has barely scabbed. In some places, tiny pinpricks of blood dribble down his stomach. In others are thick, white blisters. The edge of the gash itself in coated in crusty, green pus.

“Dude,” Tyler murmurs, turning his head away. His stomach hurts. Not because of his own wounds, but because he knows Josh put his own health and safety on the back burner to make sure Tyler was taken care of. If Tyler hadn’t been such an idiot with the grenade, they would have never been in this mess.

“I’ll be okay,” Josh says, but he doesn’t even seem to believe that himself. He shakes his head and forces a smile. “I’ve just been really shaky, lately. And I threw up a couple of times. But besides that, I’m okay.”

“You have a fever.”

“The others will be back with medicine and supplies soon. I can wait until then. Are you hungry? You haven’t eaten anything in a few days. I can go make you something.” Josh pushes off his knees to leave the tent, prompting Tyler to reach out and stop him. He frowns disapprovingly.

“Josh, you’re just as sick as I am.”

“I’m fine,” he presses, lying. Tyler is obviously making him irritated about this.

“No, you aren’t. Come here.”

With a sigh, Josh crawls back over, grimacing slightly as he plops back down in front of Tyler cross-legged on the floor. Their knees bump.

“It could be weeks before they get antibiotics. You’re only going to get sicker.” His pale fingers clasp around Josh’s hand and Josh happily squeezes back. He’s weak. “You said my body was conserving light?”

“I mean, I assume so. Only because you’ve been slightly glowing this whole time.” Tyler looks up at Josh’s black eye. In the shadows of the tent, it certainly looks black. It makes sense why they call it that.

“Can I kiss you?” Tyler asks.

“I guess I can’t exactly give you what I have, right?” He laughs again, but it sounds like a lame attempt at Josh trying to play down how sick he really is. Tyler knows Josh wouldn’t want him to worry. The thing is, though-- Tyler is very worried.

Josh practically crawls into Tyler’s lap when the younger boy reaches out to catch him in a kiss. Tyler leans his head back, accenuating his Adam’s Apple, and gasps softly when Josh’s lips press up against it. As great as it feels to have Josh’s lips against his, Tyler knows what he has to do. He’s causing a distraction because Josh would never agree with what he’s about to do. If he really is like a crank up flashlight, that means he can exert all his saved up mystical healing powers and use them on Josh. Tyler has never done that before, healed another person— but he’s willing to give it a go if it means Josh won’t die after all they’ve been through.

For a few minutes, Tyler doesn’t think anything is happening. His tongue is in Josh’s mouth, his hand on Josh’s thigh, his mind on Josh’s wounds. They are lost in a haze of ecstasy.

Until Josh seems to realize something isn’t right and pulls away. He gives Tyler a puzzled look before lifting his shirt to reveal a wound no longer bursting with pus. His eyes widen when he realizes Tyler’s hand is still touching his skin.

“No,” he shakes his head, “Tyler, _no.”_

“You need it more than I do,” Tyler tells him, exerting every ounce of dominance he has in his tiny, frail body. “Besides, I can be recharged. I’ll be okay. Just pop me in the sun and,” he blows a raspberry, “I’m good to go. Y’know, solar powered.”

Josh straightens his back, trying to match Tyler’s dominance, his lips pressed into a frown. “Yeah, and like a crank up flashlight, you can _die.”_

Oh, yeah. He could. Would it really be like that, though? Was Tyler as fragile as an electronic that he could exhaust all his energy? “Just put my corpse in the sun and I’ll restart.”

Tyler tightens his grip on Josh’s thigh. He’s glad Josh sleeps in his briefs, because direct contact works a lot better than having to weave skin cells through the stitches of cotton. “You know you need this more than I do. My injuries are taken care of. Yours are infected.”

“You could lose your hand,” Josh argues. Tyler shrugs.

“You’re worth more than my entire collection of body parts combined.” Josh’s shirt is still pulled up enough that Tyler can see the wound’s bright crimson color fading to a soft pink. His neck twitches and his heart skips a beat. Suddenly, he feels exhausted, like he’s spent the past hour running a marathon instead of sleeping.

“Please stop,” Josh says, yet he makes no advances to get Tyler to stop. He, just like Tyler, knows he needs this in order to keep living. Tears are beginning to paint his cheeks in thin brush strokes. One slides down the bridge of his crooked nose and stains the collar of his shirt.

The light explodes as Tyler sucks the energy out of it. Josh flinches as the tent is plunged into darkness. Tyler feels like someone thwacked him in the gut with a baseball bat. He knows now more than ever that his life is on the line. Unlike before, he’s choosing to sacrifice himself.

“Tyler, stop. Please. You’ll die.” His eyes have adjusted to find the outline of Josh’s face and the glassiness of tears in his eyes. Tyler bites his tongue and presses forward.

“You have hundreds of people relying on you,” he manages to get out in broken pieces. Tyler thinks he’s started crying again now as well, because his cheeks feel warm.

“You’re bleeding,” Josh sticks his finger out and swipes it over Tyler’s left cheek. Okay, so not crying. Bleeding. “Tyler, your life matters too. Please. _Please_ stop.”

“Not until,” Tyler grimaces, “Not until the infection is gone.” His muscles are tensing up enough that it feels like they could tear in half soon. Part of him wonders if his organs are giving up their energy as well. Maybe even his heart will stop beating soon to pass that on to the man in front of him. “I love you.”

“I love you too, and that’s why you need to stop!” Josh finally shoves Tyler away from him, tumbling onto his back in the process. He grunts in pain as he sits up and fumbles around in the darkness for Tyler’s leg.

Tyler himself has began to realize how dire the situation is when he can no longer see anything in front of him. “Josh? I can’t see.” He feels a hand touch his leg.

“I’m right here. Lay down.” The hands adjust him, sliding under around the back of his knees and around his waist so he’s laying down. Tyler tastes blood in the back of his throat.

“You’re so dumb,” Josh mumble-cries. Tyler blinks into the blackness. Is this what it feels like to be blind? To never be able to see anything ever again? He already feels like he’s forgetting what Josh looks like. That isn’t fair. “You’re so dumb, Tyler.”

Tyler coughs into the crook of his elbow and his chest clutches. He’s running on one percent right now, which is not good, considering they have at least a couple hours until the sun rises.

“Fuck!” Josh yells, hitting something. The noise of shattering glass rings in Tyler’s ears. “Can I start a fire? Will that help?”

“No,” Tyler sounds like a monster, but he has always known he is one. That’s why he was sent to Dema in the first place. He was unlovable by any normal person. Nico had made that abundantly clear.

“Another flashlight,” Josh tries again, the tent stirring. He unzips the entrance flap and a gust of cold air enters. “I’ll be right back, okay? Right back.”

Tyler doesn’t answer. He waits patiently, his eyes closed, his throat closing up, his breaths shallow. He wonders if this was how cell phones felt when they were about to die. Did they have the conscious to know they were dying? Did they know they weren’t alive?

He wonders if he’s truly alive, or still stuck in Dema. Did he ever escape, or is his consciousness still there?

“I’m back.” Josh is loud. Tyler fears he’s woken up the entire Bandito camp trying to save Tyler’s soul. He tells Tyler the flashlight is on, even though Tyler is unable to see it.

He feels it, though. A burning light, a burning energy; Josh plugged him into the charging cord. He gasps for oxygen, and like a snap of his fingers, the flashlight explodes. Josh drops it, shrieking, as it lands with a _thud_ against the tarped ground.

“Fuck!” Josh yells again. He’s stomping around, leaving the tent, continuing to fumble around. “Fuck! FUCK!”

Someone else whispers something. Tyler thinks he might be about three or four percent charged at this point. He won’t last long, but it’s better than walking the wire.

“We can’t keep wasting all our light sources on him,” says one of the Banditos. Josh tells the guy to go fuck himself.

Maybe Tyler’s body is shutting down because he’s in low power mode. Perhaps after the sun has risen and he’s been properly put outside, he’ll be able to see again. He hopes the blindness isn’t permanent, that he didn’t fuck up his programming by healing another person. Even so, it meant Josh would live to see another day, and that was more than Tyler could say for himself.

“Josh,” that’s a girl’s voice this time, Tyler thinks, “Please calm down. We all have had to make sacrifices. That’s why we’re here and not back there.”

“I wouldn’t fucking _be here_ if it wasn’t for him!” Josh roars at his tribe. His voice carries, louder than Tyler has ever heard before. It’s fueled with grief and regret. “I’ve done every fucking thing I ever could for _ALL OF YOU!”_

“Josh--”

“No! Fuck you!” He’s furious; no, he’s madder than he’s ever been in his entire life. “Fuck all of you!”

Tyler wants to comfort him, wants to run outside and wrap his arms around Josh’s waist until he cries all the tears out of his body. Instead, he’s stuck, paralyzed with fatigue, temporary blindness, and a severed hand. All he had wanted was to protect Josh and make sure he got back safe; instead, Tyler only made things worse.

Josh’s fury induced words are the last thing he hears before slipping into a deep slumber.

-

He awakes to golden light and the whispers of wind.

The light is a good thing, because it means he’s no longer blinded by darkness. His limbs don’t ache as much, nor does blood stir in the back of his throat like saliva.

Josh’s warm hands help him sit up to meet the licking tendrils of flames from the fire. They are the only ones outside, the sun still on its way over the horizon. Finally, Tyler has been plugged in to charge.

“Hey, big guy,” Josh whispers, smiling. Tyler can tell he’s been crying because his eyes are rimmed red. “How are you feeling?”

“I think I’m at about twenty percent now,” he replies, smiling back. It makes Josh rest easy. “I can see again, so that’s good.”

“If you ever try to heal me again like that, I will kick your ass.” Josh clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. It’s starting to get long again and is curling around his ears. He had shaved it right after escaping Dema’s walls; the first time Tyler touched Josh’s buzzed head, he almost cried. Not because the hair was gone, but because Josh was free.

He was free now too, Tyler realized.

“At least you aren’t dying from infection anymore,” he points out. Josh scoffs, but his hand shoots out to grasp Tyler’s knee.

“I’m sorry I called you dumb last night. You aren’t dumb.”

“I’m kinda dumb, considering I got my arms blown off with a grenade.”

“But that wasn’t your fault,” Josh counters, “Nico had you in a chokehold. And he... he was going to essentially r--”

Tyler cuts him off before he can say the word. “I don’t want to talk about that, okay? He didn’t. It never got to that point. And I have you, whom I trust and love so dearly to make me feel better.”

Josh is quiet. Tyler is quiet. They listen to the crackle of the campfire and stare at the rising sun.

“I thought you were dead,” Josh whispers. “Again. God, what a fucking nightmare this week has been.”

“When did you bring me outside?”

“After I got the others to lay off. I got one more flashlight out of them, from Jenna-- she’s cool, you’ll like her-- but it blew out almost instantly. I started a fire and brought you outside soon after. I was kinda hoping,” a pause, “that I could give my energy to you.”

“Like a incubus?”

“You kind of are one, aren’t you? When it comes to sunlight, at least. I know you aren’t going around banging everyone.”

“That you know of,” Tyler adds, smiling into his lap. Josh snorts.

“It’s good to see you making jokes. It feels like it’s been ages since we’ve been able to do that.”

“Be ourselves?”

“Yeah. Exactly.” The color has returned to Josh’s face, and even though he still has plenty of scabs and bruises, he looks better.

“You know I would be willing to die for you, right?”

“Considering you’ve done that twice already, yeah. I can’t believe you, man. Sometimes I think you’re too good to be real.”

His brow furrows. “Whatcha mean?”

“I would die for you too, Ty, but I feel like you’re actively seeking out death. Not like, in a suicide way, but it’s like death has a vendetta against you.”

“No. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

“Exactly. Your life matters too.” Tyler doesn’t reply right away and instead stares at his Frankenstein arm. It’s starting to darken, but the scar is tinged in pink.

“I’m here with you, now. It’s all I wanted-- to start a life with you.”

“I know I always got upset that you were so against coming to live with me in Trench, but I get it. You wanted to be treated like an equal. You felt like a monster. Last night, watching you actively suck the energy out of your body to heal me, I understood everything. I spent the whole morning in tears until I thought my lungs were going to fall out of my throat.”

“I always wanted to be with you. I just... I was holding on to something I knew would never be a reality, like, winning the lottery or marrying a celebrity crush. Part of me thought it could happen if I waited long enough. When Nico told me no one ever left, my heart shattered. And then I realized I didn’t need the outside world to accept me because I already had someone who liked me for who I was, mutant and all.”

Josh’s lips twitch up into a half-smile. “Yeah. I’m glad you like me too, mutant and all.”

“I’m glad we did that.” Tyler sniffs. “Even if it means I lost a hand, I’m glad.”

“I know they’ll come for us again, but at least we bought some time.”

“And I’m here with you now,” he adds.

“Right,” Josh agrees. He scoots closer until his palm is able to rest comfortably against Tyler’s cheek. His thumb strokes Tyler’s cheekbone, causing the younger boy to blush. The caress of Josh’s lips still comes as a surprise, even though he was expecting it. It is a jolt, a shock; it was exactly how he felt when he stood out in the sunlight. Kissing Josh was like wireless charging. He wasn’t tethered to a specific area for the energy to flow through him.

Josh’s lips made the tips of his fingers and toes tingle, and he loved every single second of it.

“God,” Josh murmurs against Tyler’s mouth, “I want to eat you out so badly.”

Tyler’s breath hitches. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe when I’m up to fifty or sixty percent, love.”

Josh grins.

-

They spend the rest of the day laying under the sun next to the dying embers of the fire. It’s not cold, but it’s not hot either; the weather sits at a stalemate, allowing them to lay in each other’s arms. The other Banditos busy themselves with tasks— cooking, cleaning, making supply runs— and a few return from Dema with supplies. There still are no sight of any Antibiotics, which makes Tyler feel better about letting Josh suck the energy out of his organs.

Jenna, the Bandito Josh mentioned earlier, brings Tyler some food and water. She’s beautiful, her long, blonde hair in two braids down the center of her scalp and with her rosy, pink cheeks. Jenna could manipulate water; for about half an hour, Tyler watches with curious eyes as she bounces dew droplets from the grass in the palm of her hand, the smile not once leaving her face.

The other Banditos don’t seem as interested in Tyler’s presence as Josh and Jenna do. They give him looks of pity, sympathy, but do no more than that. Josh says it’s nothing personal, that they’ll warm up to him, but Tyler isn’t so sure. He never really had friends in Dema besides Josh. Would this be the same?

Josh says they’re a family, that everyone within the camp has each other’s backs, and it is enough to calm the pitter patter of Tyler’s heart.

Two weeks later, Tyler is fully healed, his scars the only reminder of Dema’s confinement. The sunlight really must be fucking with him, because when his missing hand has fully returned, he has three lines wrapped neatly around his wrist, tinged pink just like the other one. Josh suggests running over the scars in a “stick and poke” fashion, because they would make really cool tattoos, but Tyler only replies with “maybe later.” He doesn’t understand his complicated relationship with these UV rays, but he’s thankful for their companionship. They sure know how to liven up a party.

Josh is feeling better too, and for the first time since they met, Tyler feels at peace with the world around him. The Banditos are starting to warm up to him, smiling, bidding their hellos in passing, inviting him to play a game of cards or join them for a drink. They conduct some form of silent induction of him into the group by slapping pieces of yellow tape over his shoulder, around his left arm, over his fingers. It makes him feel warm, to be part of a family again. He had forgotten what what it was like to be loved.

The others even invite him on a supply run, and even though Tyler knows Nico is long gone, he still fears the Bishop’s gaze, enough to never want to step foot in that place again.

“It’s okay,” Josh murmurs, his lips trailing over Tyler’s neck. He lets them linger over the Adam’s Apple-- Tyler’s favorite spot.

“I want you to shave my head,” Tyler says back to him. “I need the symbolism. Need to know I’m free.”

“Of course,” Josh leans back on his knees and nods his head. “And you don’t have to go back to Dema if you don’t want to. There’s plenty of others to do supply runs for us. And I... I won’t leave until you’re ready to be by yourself.”

“Thank you,” Tyler whispers. He curls his fingers over Josh’s palm and starting laughing when he feels the familiar softness of sunflower petals. Josh unravels his hands just long enough to tuck the sunflower behind Tyler’s ear.

“You’ll be safe here,” he is quiet, calm, collected, “I won’t let you get hurt ever again.”

“You’ll beat up the bad guys for me?” asks Tyler teasingly.

“I’ll kick their asses,” Josh replies, leaning forward to kiss the bridge of Tyler’s nose. “The clippers are in storage. I’ll go grab them if you want to meet me by the campfire.”

“Okay,” Tyler nods.

And when the buzz of the razor hums in his ears as it slides over his scalp, as strands of hair falls into his lap, Tyler feels an overwhelming sense of security form in his gut. He’s free.

Above him, the sun sings.

-

Josh’s hands touch the fuzz on his scalp. He giggles.

“You’re like a peach,” he says, tugging on the hem of Tyler’s shirt. “Is that what my head felt like?”

“Did you never touch your own head?”

“It doesn’t feel the same when I do it.”

“That’s fair,” Tyler shrugs, raising his arms above his head to allow Josh the consent he needs to sculpt Tyler to his preference. Josh presses a fingertip against Tyler’s collarbone, the starting point he carves into his memory, and lowers his lips to where the skin curves in.

“You’re so beautiful,” Josh tells him, sliding his lips along the bone. Tyler lays back against the pillows as the wind jostles their tent. “It’s like, God made you out of clay and stuck you in a kiln. And you cooked perfectly.”

“And then I blew my arms off with a grenade and turned into Frankenstein.” Tyler licks across his bottom row of crooked teeth as Josh positions Tyler’s arms straight out in front of him. He trails tiny kisses down Tyler’s bicep until his lips rest in the crook of his elbow.

“Gives me more places to love,” he whispers, his tongue flicking out across the raised, white edges of the Carpe Noctem scar. Tyler lolls his head back as Josh begins to suck a hickey into his arm.

“Bit of a weird place for a hickey, but I’ll allow it.”

Josh looks at him through his eyelashes. “Is this what it’s going to be like every time we have sex?” His words are mumbled through Tyler’s skin.

The words themselves are enough to send a pulsating sensation through Tyler’s groin. “I didn’t know that was happening.”

Josh sits up, his cheeks filling with strawberry red. “Oh. I kinda just... is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Tyler nods, “yeah, it is.”

“Cool,” Josh’s voice cracks, squeaks, and Tyler pulls him back in for another kiss. It’s heated, his lips parting, allowing Josh to run his own tongue along Tyler’s crooked bottom teeth, as the older boy pulls himself into Tyler’s lap to make himself more comfortable. With their mouths still attached, Josh pulls his own shirt off, displaying his rippling muscles in all their glory. Tyler rests his hands on Josh’s hips and grunts dramatically.

“I hate you,” Josh says, laughing. As sexy as they wanted this to be, Tyler knew they could not get through this without laughter. And really, that seemed better than being completely serious. They had dealt enough with seriousness and deserved humor in their lives.

Tyler pushes Josh away with a palm and sticks his tongue out playfully. “I love your hard nips,” he grins, leaning in to kiss each one. Josh’s body twitches as Tyler’s lips find the dip in his sternum.

“And your weird sternum.”

“You were right. I do like my weird sternum kissed. But you know what I like more?” He winks.

“What’s that?”

“Your lips.” He uses the tips of his fingers to pull Tyler’s chin back up towards his mouth and lays one on him. Tyler bursts into another round of giggles as his hands fold over Josh’s pectorals.

“Weird you don’t taste like blood. Think I prefer it, actually.”

“Good.” Tyler sits up to look Josh in the eyes. “You’re getting me all hard and stuff, Josh.”

“I would hope so, Tyler.” He smiles. “Can I... uh, can I touch you?”

His dick presses harder against his boxers. “Oh, yeah. Please.”

As Tyler yanks his pants off, Josh dives into his backpack (retrieved from one of the Banditos) to pull out a small vial of oil. He coats his hands in it thickly as Tyler strokes his dick and positions it to rest against his stomach.

“Oh, wow,” Josh says, laughing again. He wraps a hand around the base of Tyler’s cock and slides upwards towards the head. Tyler’s hips twitch and an involuntary gasp slides past his lips. Josh’s stroking increases in speed, stretching Tyler tighter and tighter. His cock grows harder as his hands rub up and down his thighs.

“Why don’t I, oh,” Tyler starts, pausing in between words to let the tension of his body take him captive, “fuck you?”

Josh is a cheetah, running on sexual instinct as his oiled up hands leave Tyler’s cock to slide his own pants off. He accidentally tears a hole in his briefs as they come off, revealing his own hardened dick that flops excitedly against his toned stomach. After handing the oil to Tyler, Josh returns to their cocks, engulfing their girth with a hand to stroke them both at the same time. Tyler probes a lubed up finger against Josh’s hole, grinning as Josh’s entire body spasms forward. They feel like children, giggling over and over again as they do this, but neither one of them care. They are alone in their flimsy fortress, their tent a pocket of security from the rest of the world.

Josh gasps loudly the second Tyler’s finger pushes inside of him. He actually takes a second to let the feeling wash over him like ocean waves over his feet before returning to jerking them off. The second finger comes as less of a shock, but it doesn’t stop his body from twitching or his ass from tightening around Tyler’s fingers.

“Are you-- crap-- you okay?” Tyler asks, lost in the sea of Josh’s lips. Josh has began to bob up and down on Tyler’s fingers, his legs wrapped around Tyler’s back. Tyler is breathing heavily, the tension in his body stretching thinner and thinner. Josh might be reaching the top of the hill too, because he’s shaking, and as Tyler’s fingers brush against his prostate, he actually yells out without it being his intent.

“I’m okay,” he says into Tyler’s mouth, “but I think, gah, I think we need to speed this up.”

“I can add another one,” Tyler offers, met with Josh’s gracious reply. Josh groans again as Tyler’s ring finger joins the others. “Are you gonna come?”

“Are you?” Is his rebuttal. Tyler doesn’t reply. He feels Josh’s legs tighten around his waist as he stretches Josh further.

“Okay, I’ll uhm, I’ll lube up--”

“I want you in me,” Josh’s words come out all jumbled together in one, hurried breath. “No condom, I--” he gasps, “just you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do you have any STDs?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Can you get me pregnant?”

“Don’t think so.” Tyler pulls away from Josh’s mouth. “Okay. Okay. If you’re sure--”

“I am,” Josh interrupts in a desperate plea. Tyler’s hands tingle as he fumbles with the oil, using the rest of it to coat Josh’s entrance and rub enough on his dick to smooth out the whole process. Tyler rests his hands on Josh’s hips, helping him lift up his waist to comfortably sit down on Tyler’s cock. Josh yells out again as the head enters him, his vocabulary a mixture of heavy moans and gasps as he bottoms out. Tyler grunts as Josh once again begins to rock up and down onto his dick.

“I love you,” he cries, “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“I love you,” Tyler hopes he can make that clear as they return to their passionate kiss. He loves everything about Josh-- and it was because of Dema that he got to hold Joshua Dun in his arms. If he had to do the whole thing thing over again, Tyler would. Tyler would because it meant Josh would be by his side.

They come at the same time, in sync, as the earth growls beneath them. Tyler swears the sky is screaming too; they are the piece of the chessboard that unite both sides. He can feel his skin glowing gold as a couple of sunflowers poke through the tarped foundation of the tent.

Josh is breathing like he just ran the length of the ocean as his forehead bumps against Tyler’s. He laughs a little, a smile etched into his pink lips. “I came so hard, flowers grew.”

Tyler joins him in laughter. “Keep em there.”

“I love you,” Josh says again, kissing Tyler’s perfect, sloped nose.

“I love you,” Tyler says back, his hands warm against Josh’s back.

The sun and the grass sing in unity, bound together in a way that only brings the lovers closer. They are yin and yang, lightness and darkness, peanut butter and jelly— completing each other through thick and thin.

Together, nothing will ever tear them apart ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> As we know, Nico is a human manifestation of Blurryface, and where there is Nico, there is Dema. For this work especially, I focused on the concept that Dema represents Tyler's deepest and darkest anxieties, ones that he will never truly be able to escape from. Anxiety isn't something that can just go away-- we have to learn to live with it, negotiate with it, and not let it control us. But sometimes, it does get a hand around our throat and pull us back.
> 
> The cool thing, though, is that we get to try again.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Just a reminder that you can find me at pastelxmess on Tumblr :-)


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